For the first time in a while, I'm just trying to be me.
Trying, really hard.
I was about 20. He was noticing that I wasn't his high school sweetheart anymore. I was his college sweetheart. And my thighs were rounder. My hips grown. My hair had lost some of its blond hue, since I now spent my summers in the classroom rather than in working in the corn fields.
I was different and I didn't want to be.
He was my first love.
Have you ever heard the term, "He's not that into you"? I think it was a book that I didn't read. I probably should have.
He was not that into me for four years. But I gave him what he needed, and he took it all.
So I was twenty. I'd gained 20 lbs since high school. I was no longer a four sport athlete or the golden girl he met at a track meet in eleventh grade. I was becoming a woman.
Unfortunately, that was not to his standards. I could see it, feel it, and even hear it. "You look good in THAT outfit."
So I dieted. A lot. And started highlighting my hair.
Tonight, I did my first at-home hair color. And probably my last.
I don't have fake highlights any more.
I'm going to be real.
And even if tears spring to my eyes as I think of it, I'm going to accept myself as the woman I've become.
It may have taken 10 years.
But tonight I washed that man right out of my hair.